Even those who were aware—and that was pretty much everyone—that the Nissan DeltaWing was about to streak past the starting line at the 80th running of the 24 Hours of Le Mans experienced the same split-second thought. You could almost hear a collective “What the hell?” when the little black lawn dart appeared, then disappeared into the distance.

Five minutes before the start at 3 p.m. local time, John Love said that it really didn't matter how the DeltaWing performed in the race. Love handles public relations for Michelin, the car's tire supplier, and was one year ago at the Circuit de la Sarthe when the Automobile Club de l'Ouest announced that the DeltaWing would this year get the “Garage 56” slot reserved for experimental entries.

“[The DeltaWing team] said what they would do, and they did it,” he pointed out. “They delivered the car on time, it was as fast as they said it would be, it qualified where they said it would [29th overall]. As far as I'm concerned, the DeltaWing has already won.”

Indeed. Not in recent memory has a race car been the subject of so many “it can't be done” criticisms and then gone ahead and done so. Chief designer Ben Bowlby has had one consistent dream for the car. It was not to make him rich and famous; it was not to see a fleet of them on the track; it was not to replace existing race cars with his vision. It was to prove that there are other ways to do things, to encourage other racers and designers and engineers to think outside of the box.

Of course, it wasn't easy.

You know the backstory: Bowlby and his then-employer, Chip Ganassi, took a DeltaWing concept car to the Chicago auto show in February 2010, officially entering the lottery to become the Izod IndyCar Series' all-new model for 2012. But IndyCar that summer instead chose a Dallara-designed chassis—the safest choice, especially after the company pledged to open a factory in Indiana-polis to build them—and the DeltaWing tale seemed to be over.

But then another chapter began: The ACO decided the radical idea deserved a showcase at Le Mans. Racing legend Dan Gurney and his All American Racers shop in California agreed to build it. Michelin signed on as the tire sponsor, giving the project credibility. Duncan Dayton and his Highcroft Racing team agreed to do the testing and development. Don Panoz, founder of the American Le Mans Series, helped by writing some big checks and generally being a positive presence. And eventually, Nissan's European arm agreed to supply an engine and some cash.

In the end, it is a bit tragic that only Michelin and Nissan saw the possibilities here; no other company stepped forward to help in a major way. And long, long before the 2012 running of Le Mans occurred, Michelin and Nissan were repaid many times over in a flurry of feel-good publicity and PR opportunities that had to make other manufacturers kick themselves for passing on the project.

Example: It would have been nice for the conceived-and-built-in-America project to have had an American engine, and the fact that it did not does not mean that Chevrolet and Ford weren't lobbied. They passed. They made a big mistake.

It is nice that Nissan's European division jumped onboard, but as soon as it made the announcement—in England, not the United States—the company

co-opted the project, bringing the lone DeltaWing to Europe for all of its final prerace testing. By the time the green flag waved in France, you would have thought that Darren Cox, the self-confident general manager of Nissan in Europe, had spent all of his nights personally wrenching on the car. You would have thought that Nissan USA didn't exist.

That's how the DeltaWing got to Le Mans. You likely know that Japanese race driver Kazuki Nakajima, aboard a tanklike Toyota TS 030 HYBRID, punted fellow Japanese driver Satoshi Motoyama and the DeltaWing into a concrete wall just after a restart in the seventh hour.

Per the rules, Motoyama listened to instructions from his crew through a fence and worked to repair damage to the rear suspension and powertrain so that he could drive it back to the pits. But despite his effort, the car was too damaged. It finished 52nd of the 56 entries, and by midnight, the DeltaWing garage was closed as the crew commiserated in a distant hospitality tent where there were no reporters except for a couple of us who had been involved from the start.

Sad, but the one real tragedy was that lead development driver Marino Fran-chitti never got a turn behind the wheel. The other two drivers were Japanese and German—Motoyama and Michael Krumm—because there was never a chance for an American after Nissan of Europe took control. But Franchitti, like his brother and IndyCar champion Dario Franchitti, is well-known and well-liked in the States. Marino Franchitti tried to shrug it off, but knowing that he would have had his chance had the DeltaWing lasted just another 30 minutes or so . . .

So on to the big question: What's next? And who will make the decision?

We asked Panoz, and he flipped out a business card showing that he is Delta-Wing's “managing partner.” He owns a piece, as do Ganassi, Dayton and another investor who is not in the racing business. But you can't race without an engine, so what does Nissan have in mind?

“Ask me Monday morning,” said Cox. Hell, no one could even agree on where the crippled car would be sent for repairs.

At this point, what is clear is that Gurney and All American Racers are likely through with it, according to Justin Gurney, Dan's son and head of the company. If they were approached down the line to become involved again, they'd consider it, he said.

Panoz wants the DeltaWing to race, perhaps a fleet of them. It could show up at the ALMS season finale, Petit Le Mans, at his Road Atlanta track. He would also like future DeltaWings to use his REAMS technology—Recyclable Energy Absorbing Material System—sort of a lower-cost version of carbon fiber. “It looks like a cross between carbon fiber and plastic,” Justin Gurney said. No REAMS was used in this DeltaWing's construction.

We should also note that the car's tub was sourced from Aston Martin's late prototype effort because it had been crash-tested, and it sped up the process. The DeltaWing would need its own tub if more are to be built. And the only significant Nissan part used in the engine, built by British company RML, is the throttle body. Know, too, that by the time the DeltaWing got to Le Mans, the only Highcroft Racing personnel remaining were Dayton, Marino Franchitti and public-relations representative Paul Ryan.

Finally, know that on Sunday afternoon, while the race was still on, about two-thirds of the big dining room in Nissan's hospitality area was blocked off by waiters, so no journalists could get close to the luncheon being shared by Nissan executives and Zak Brown, founder of Just Marketing Inc. Just Mar-keting is the world's largest motorsports marketing firm. Also part of the luncheon was Mike O'Donnell, former managing director of Jaguar and now a board member of the Williams Formula One team, as well as Just Marketing. Were they discussing a contract for Nissan power for the Williams F1 car, or the DeltaWing? No one would talk afterward.

That brings us back to Bowlby, the DeltaWing's heart and soul but not one of the owners of the company, and not one of the bigwigs present at that power lunch. Bowlby has not taken a vacation in three years, nor has he had a single a day off in the past year. He would like to re-acquaint himself with his family. And though he would not admit it, Bowlby, too, may well be done with the Delta-Wing. He proved his point to his fellow engineers—boy, did he—and there's a good chance that he might move on.

So whether the DeltaWing is the start of a new era in motorsports, or just a fascinating museum piece, remains to be seen. But make no mistake: As Michelin PR man Love said, it could be the first time in Le Mans history that a 52nd-place finish is a victory. And now, more than two weeks after Le Mans, the DeltaWing's future is no clearer than it was then. Team spokesman Paul Ryan said there is definite interest from Nissan, the ACO and the American Le Mans Series in taking the car to the next level, but what that level is—and when that might happen—remains a mystery.

As for the car itself: It's garaged in England awaiting, as we all are, some direction.